


(Ab)normal

by StubbornShrew



Series: (Ab)normal [1]
Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Dollars (Durarara!!), F/M, Implied/Referenced Underage Relationship(s), Reader-Insert, Underage Relationship(s), durarara - Freeform, reader is a genius, teenage reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2018-06-02 12:18:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6565780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StubbornShrew/pseuds/StubbornShrew
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is how my life began: how normalcy ended.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>(^^^look who's bad at summaries)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Normalcy

**Author's Note:**

> Feed back and constructive criticism are appreciated!

No one wants to be _normal_. Sure, people always gripe and groan about not fitting in, but no one _wants_ to be just another face in the crowd. No one ever says anything about the “normal” person. We praise those who achieve and succeed and do something different. We all  **want**   _exciting_   _lives_ ; we just don’t want the consequences that come with one.

Now, I knew what _I_ wanted out of life. _I_ wanted to achieve and to succeed and do something _**different**_. I wanted every day to be a mystery to me. I wanted every right turn to be a new face and every left to be something to explore.

But, though I had dreams just like everyone else, I was a realist. I was what you called a “bright young girl”, according to my mother. I was only “bright”, however, because I was set on a career path that my parents and teachers deemed reasonable. I was top in my class and was multilingual by the age of 15 years old. I told people that I was going to go to Harvard or Stanford, and they _believed_ me. I told them I was going to be a neuro scientist, and they laughed and said something along the lines of, ‘Of course you’d _want_ to be something like that’.

But, I’m not a downer. I swear. I was a **normal** kid who had **normal** hobbies and **normal** friends.

I was happy, for the most part anyway.

But then I got an email. It was simple and to the point. It was almost comical how blunt it was.

 

**Do you want to join The Dollars? Yes or No**

 

I was shocked for a moment. I knew who the dollars were, of course, after stumbling upon an article I had found while researching Ikebukuro: the city I would be staying in as a foreign exchange student for the upcoming school year. I leaned back in my chair and couldn’t resist my growing smirk. This was something… something _different_. These kind of things were what I _strived_ for.

Without a single hesitation, or regard for the consequences if the rumors about the dollars were true, I sent my reply. Yes. _Yes_ , **oh god yes** , _give me something **different**_. Within a few minutes I got a reply with a url and a password. I quickly logged on, and smiled at the user names on the screen. So many people saying so much about so many different things. It was exactly what I needed.

I’m (y/n) (l/n), and this was the day that normalcy ended.


	2. Meetings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You find yourself stuck between a pure wall of fury and a magician of lies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Corrective criticism is appreciated!

Noise. That’s all I heard around me, day and night. I had gotten to Ikebukuro about week before and could honestly say that it was a loud, obnoxious, pretentious city with rude people.

I adored it.

My parents were on the richer side of the spectrum, so I had set up shack in a high rise apartment building in the center of Ikebukuro. I was pleased with this and would usually spend the day unpacking, making sure I was completely good on my Japanese, and watching the lights and people rush by down below, all while bobbing my head to the beat of my music.

I had always been a very art and music oriented person, but since I had gotten to Japan, I had taken up the habit of leaving my headphones on wherever I went. I guess it was to keep something familiar in a new environment.

My new friends from the Dollars seemed ecstatic when I told them I was staying in Ikebukuro, which I found slightly odd considering none of us even knew each other’s real names. The only friend I had made so far was a large Russian man down the street, Simon. On my first day walking around the city, he had taken notice to how young I was and that I was a foreigner. He offered me a discount on special ‘chicken sushi’, much to my amusement, which I accepted gratefully. After that, we would always talk when I took my daily walk to make sure I wasn’t slowly suffocating myself in my apartment.

Though I was quite pleased with my new friend, he didn’t exactly fill my friendship meter all the way to the top. So here I am now, walking around the center of Ikebukuro at night alone. Not exactly something my mother would approve of me doing in a far off country, but I couldn’t help it. The city was so bright and vast, with so much to do and so much to explore. So many interesting people to meet, I thought to myself, a slight hop in my step.

I stopped at a nearby shop window to look at a variety of different art supplies, making a note to come back here later, when suddenly my attention was pulled to a large crash noise. I whipped around, eyes wide at what I saw. Not twelve feet in front of me stood a man in a bar tenders uniform, about ten years older than me at the most, breathing heavily with a red face and eyes full of fire. I shivered. I pitied anyone who had to be on the receiving end of that stare.

I looked to see the person who was about to be skewered like an olive in a martini by the rabid bartender. I was shocked by the second man. Not because he was anything special, no, he looked like any other decently attractive, young guy. I was shocked because he wasn’t scared. He held himself relaxed, yet respectable. He had a wicked smirk full of secrets and eyes like a cat. I shivered, yet again. But this time it wasn’t from fright, it was excitement. I felt an uneasy exhilaration well up in me, and I didn’t know why.

“Shizu-chan, you really should be more careful. What is that, the eighth street sign this week?”, the confident young man had a mocking tone to his voice, which he covered up with an innocent expression until he broke out into a winning smile. “Izaya, you bastard,” the bartender breathed deeply, lifting what you thought was a large street borderer over his head, “Give me a reason to not kill you right now!”

“Hmm, you would miss me too much?~” ‘Shizu-chan’ let out a roar before reeling back his arm to throw the large piece of metal. Without a moment’s notice, the brunnete’s eye flickered to were you stood and a small, devious smile spread across his face. In a few long strides he had taken you by the hand and held you to his chest. Placing his head on your stiff shoulder, he blinked daringly at the blonde, who had stopped his previous action to sneer at your captor. “Shizu-chan, you wouldn’t want to scare this sweet little girl, would you?” he pulled you closer, “I mean, why bring such a darling innocent into our fun?”

The look the blonde gave you was nothing short of pity for you and disgust at the man who held you. You started to squirm a little, being one for lots of physical contact but not exactly comfortable with this stranger. The agile man took notice and smirked at the seething bartender again, “I think your staring is making her uncomfortable; do you mind turning around?” That was the last straw for both you and the blonde.

As the angry man took a step forward and you had just reeled your leg up to kick your captor where the sun doesn’t shine, he released you and ran off. The blond went to chase after him, but not after giving you a once over to make sure you were okay. You looked around the area you were in, slightly exasperated, noticing that everyone else had left the area. Great to know that the people of this city care about you so much. You headed back home, utterly exhausted, as your thoughts drifted to the events that just transpired. What a weird, infuriating night.

You stopped.

You smiled.

You need to see them again.

 

**Author's Note:**

> So, how is it so far? Is it too short? Is my writing style too serious? Feel free to tell me!


End file.
